


A Game of Doubt and Trust

by rietala



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (but less enemies and more antagonistic relationship), Alternate Universe - High School, American setting, Anxiety, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Extremely Slow Burn, M/M, Middle Blocker!Kokichi, Setter!Shuichi, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Violence, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rietala/pseuds/rietala
Summary: After Kaede fractures her ankle at practice, Shuichi is recruited to take her place as the starting setter of Gopher High's co-ed volleyball team. Struggling to work through his own fears and self-doubts, Shuichi finds himself drawn to Kokichi Ouma, a quick witted middle blocker who refuses to learn the definition of teamwork. As the two develop a deadly attack, they must work together to conquer their inner demons before they tear the team apart.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Saihara Shuichi, Background Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, background Chabashira Tenko/Yumeno Himiko
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	A Game of Doubt and Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! Had to reupload this because AO3 did some whack ass shit, but here we are again. If you're one of the two people who commented, I'm so so sorry! Those comments meant so much to me you have no idea.  
> Anyways!  
> Two weeks ago I decided that I needed to put my three years of competitive volleyball to some use, so here we are.  
> In case you haven't played volleyball or watched Haikyuu (same thing in my opinion), here's some links that help explain positions/jargon (Positions: https://hoovermetcomplex.com/back-to-basics-volleyball-player-positions/ || Jargon:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volleyball_jargon)  
> This is an Americanized AU because I don't trust my knowledge of Japanese honorifics and customs to do anything else.  
> That's all from me, thanks for reading!

Shuichi Saihara didn’t _do_ clubs.

He didn’t join the drama club, as his severe stage fright left him a deer in headlights. He didn’t have enough faith in his own arguments to join the debate team. Shuichi was completely and utterly musically incompetent, which shoved band, choir, and orchestra out of the picture.

Sports were out of the question, _especially_ volleyball.

As soon as the final bell rang on Friday afternoon, Shuichi was shoved out of Gofer High alongside all the other students who shied away from extracurriculars. It was monstrously cold, even for early March. Each of Shuichi’s breaths puffed out in a cloud of mist. He cursed himself for only wearing a light hoodie as he pulled his hat lower on his head to block out the wind. He strode past the statue of the school mascot (a cartoonish bear posing like one of Michelangelo’s creations… weird) and started to shove his earbuds in. Twenty or so other students grouped in a loose crowd around him: the younger ones went off towards the school bus while some of the upperclassmen headed towards student parking. Everyone was itching to head home for the weekend. Shuichi pulled his phone from his pocket, and just as he went to tap play on his music, a familiar voice cut through the crisp air.

“Shuichi!”

He ground to a halt and spun around, searching for his friend. Shuichi was thrown off balance as a body slammed into his shoulder. “Kae—” he started before seeing his attacker.

“Watch where you're stopping, dipshit.” A boy grumbled as he moved past him.

Shuichi winced. “A-ah, sorry.”

“Shuichi! Over here!” He quickly reoriented himself and caught sight of Kaede Akamatsu, his closest friend.

Her honey blonde hair fluttered in the wind. She wore a large, pink cardigan and a pair of fashionable sweatpants. As he jogged towards her, his vision quickly focused on two new, concerning devices: twin crutches and a boot cast on her left foot. His eyes widened in shock. “Are you okay? What happened? Is it broken?!” His questions shot out like bullets, no space between them for answers.

Kaede raised her hands defensively and let out an airy laugh, crutches tucked under her shoulders. “Woah, slow down there, I’m okay, honestly.” Tension slipped out of Shuichi’s body. “Before I explain everything, mind if we sit down somewhere? It’s _freezing_ , and these crutches aren’t exactly comfortable.”

“Um, of course.” Shuichi shot a glance towards the school doors. They locked upon closing, only being opened for the students with an actual reason to be inside. Squinting through the glass, Shuichi could see a janitor mopping the entry hall. He could ask him to open the door for them, but he didn’t want to be a bother… “Want to go to King’s?” he  
suggested. “I’ll drive.”

“Sounds good!” She said with a smile.

They headed towards Shuichi’s car, an old, yet reliable sudan. Its inside was clean and barren, save for the tacky dice hanging from his rearview mirror. Shuichi started the engine and turned up the heat, and the two made their way towards King’s Cup, their favorite cafe from their middle school days. They hadn’t been in a long time: Kaede was too busy with her responsibility as the volleyball team’s star setter. She always expressed guilt for not being able to spend time with him, but Shuichi assured her that he understood. That didn’t stop Kaede’s frequent invitations to come practice with them, much to his dismay.

He parked and they headed inside. Shuichi held the door for Kaede as she hobbled through on her crutches. The comforting scent of coffee hit him as soon as he entered. The interior was small, yet cozy. A couple of tables were scattered throughout the cafe, about half of them occupied by students busy at work. Every chair was adorned with a colorful cushion, well worn and faded. The pair headed towards the chic barista behind the counter. Kaede ordered a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, while Shuichi bought his usual black coffee. Kaede stuck her tongue out in fake disgust as he told the barista his order: she always teased his bitter tastes.

“Alright,” Shuichi started as the two sat down at a corner table, drinks in hand, “how’d this all happen?”

“I had a little accident at practice.” Kaede explained, eyes averted. “I fell and fractured my ankle.”

“That’s pretty vague, Kaede.” He fixed her with a pointed stare.

She sighed and spun her spoon in a figure-eight motion throughout her hot chocolate. The already melting whipped cream blended into the drink, leaving a small trace of foamy white. “Rantaro and I were working on quick attacks,” she clarified. “I got a little too ambitious and made us go at a ridiculously fast pace. He collided with me while I was doing a jump set and I just… landed wrong. I didn’t realize there was any problem at all until I tried to get up. My ankle couldn’t take it, I collapsed again.” Shuichi watched her fidget with her spoon. “The doctor said I’m not going to get this boot off for another two or three months, which means I’m out for the rest of the season.” Disappointment and regret were painted all over her face.

“I’m so sorry,” Shuichi breathed. He knew how much the team meant to her. He wished he knew how to comfort her, but that was her strength, not his. Instead, he watched as his friend sank deeper into despair.

Suddenly, Kaede slapped both of her cheeks. Shuichi’s heart leapt to his throat. “Ah! Kaede—” he exclaimed, shooting his hands out awkwardly as though he could stop her.

Her gaze sharpened, all traces of sadness vanished. “What’s happened, happened, no use dwelling on it. Besides,” she added, a small grin across her lips, “this situation has given me a _great_ opportunity.”

Shuichi frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Well, now that I’m benched, we’re down a setter…”

Realization struck Shuichi at once. He went still as dread pooled in his stomach. “You don’t mean..”

“This is the perfect time for you to join the team!”

Anxiety wracked Shuichi’s mind. Join the volleyball team? He didn’t want to disappoint Kaede, of course. But at the same time, he was a proud member of the going home club—president, in fact—and he wasn’t quite ready to sacrifice his position. His mind desperately sought for a way out, a happy middle ground to escape through.

“Ah!” He shot up. “What about Kiibo?” He had heard Kaede mention the young setter a few times in passing. “Couldn’t he fill in for you?”

Kaede shook her head. “Kiibo’s a great part of the team, but he’s far too inexperienced to be the starting setter.” She smiled awkwardly, “He just started to consistently get the ball up but his aim… still needs work, so to speak.”

“Like I’m much better.”

“Come on! We both know that you’re an amazing setter!” Shuichi grimaced. Kaede insisted that he had talent, but Shuichi wasn’t exactly sold. “Please,” her voice turned soft, “we need you, Shuichi.”

Shuichi flinched and shrunk in on himself. He took a long sip of his coffee, relishing its bitter taste as it slid down his throat. The ceramic mug hit the table with a quiet thud. He studied his rippling face within the black liquid. The same anxiety, doubts, and insecurities that had plagued him his entire life reflected back up at him, an ugly mirror of his fears. He glanced up at her face from under his hat for the briefest second. Her eyes brimmed with desperation. He tugged his hat lower.

“I’ll think about it,” he offered, pushing back the decision for another day. He still had the whole weekend ahead of him.

That answer seemed to satisfy Kaede. She clasped her hands together. “Great! Just let me know soon, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I will,” he said, making no such plans to do so.

Pushing the uncomfortable conversation behind them, the two spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. Kaede told him about her recent piano recital, funny stories about her teammates, and her family’s pestering about her getting a boyfriend. Shuichi explained his uncle’s latest case and a novel he was reading. Stories flowed like a river as their drinks dwindled away. Eventually, Shuichi was able to settle down and push the weight of his dilemma out of his mind. He barely noticed the first orange tints of sunset filtered through the cafe windows. “Shoot!” Kaede exclaimed, fumbling for her phone. She took a quick glance at the screen and frowned. “I need to get going, practice is nearly over.”

Reminded of her request, dread filled his core, but he quickly pushed it aside. “Do you need a ride?” he forced out.

She beamed. “That would be great, thanks!”

The two packed their belongings and headed out into the evening. A definitive chill had settled over the town during their time in the cafe. They picked up the pace as they headed towards the car, Kaede pushing the limits of how fast she could move with her crutches. Shuichi pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands as he started up the car. Blissful heat blasted from the vents as he pulled out of the lot and headed back towards the school.

“Why do you need to go back, anyway? I thought you were out for the season.”

“I’m not just going to abandon the team like that.” She pumped her fists upward. “I’m going to cheer them on every practice!”

Shuichi fumbled with his hat as he braked at a red light. He smiled softly, Kaede was really something. “That’s really admirable. I’m sure the team appreciates it.”

He didn’t fail to catch the small smile on her face. “I’m just happy to be there.”

Shuichi dropped her off at the gym doors and offered to help her carry her bookbag, but Kaede just waved him off. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, hoisting her white bag over her shoulders. “It’s not even that heavy, I swear!”

“Alright,” Shuichi relented.

As he started to pull away, Kaede called after him. “See you at practice on Monday!” she shouted through a stiff breeze. “Hopefully,” she added as an afterthought. Shuichi didn’t reply, just tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

He returned to an empty house.

His parents were away on another business trip: some sort of audition in Los Angeles. They never really cared to enlighten him. Years ago, Shuichi thought that he’d eventually get used to how big the house felt on his own, but that wasn’t the case. It felt just as stark and empty as it did the first week his parents decided he was old enough to stay home and spare the expense of an extra ticket. He swore he didn’t mind the isolation, but it was getting harder and harder to deny how bitter he was.

The house was a modern colonial, crafted with symmetry and precision at its core. The front lawn was perfectly manicured, thanks to the yard service Shuichi’s parents called in every week. However, the inside wasn’t offered the same amount of care. Sure, the shelves and counters were tidy from disuse, but a sizable layer of dust was accumulating over the books and framed portraits, and Shuichi didn’t particularly care to clean them off. He tossed his book bag on the couch, far too distracted to even think about school. Homework could wait until tomorrow. He tugged open the fridge, mostly empty save for a few essentials he grabbed from the grocery store last week. He’d need to go again this weekend. His stomach rumbled. He sighed and elected to make a quick pasta dinner before heading upstairs.

Shuichi threw on some music as he flopped onto his bed. The soft notes of a piano interlude drifted through his room. His throat tightened as he was reminded of Kaede. Her request played on loop in his mind: _“We need you, Shuichi.”_ He curled into himself and clutched his pillow. Was the team really going to fail without him? He couldn’t imagine actually being needed. Surely Kiibo could rise to the challenge? Yet Kaede’s appraisal of him—usually so blindly positive—didn’t sound too promising. He feared the worst… 

Against his better judgement, Shuichi pulled himself to his feet and opened his closet. Digging through the back, he heaved out a large cardboard box, sealed tight with multiple layers of tape. Shuichi combed through his room for some scissors or a knife, eventually settling for an iron letter opener he got from his uncle. He eyed the gift with unease, figuring it was used to stab an unfaithful lover, or something else equally as grisly. Pushing those thoughts aside, Shuichi sliced through the tape like a warm knife through butter. An odd sense of numb detachment battled with a growing anxiety in his heart. As he opened the cardboard flaps, a plume of dust sprang upwards, causing him to sneeze. A light flush tinting his cheeks, Shuichi looked inside.

At the top of the box was a framed photo: him and his middle school teammates huddled in front of a net. It was just after they won their first tournament, the excitement and cheer on their faces was almost palpable. He set the photo aside and reached for his kneepads. They were faded and well worn. He lifted them closer to his face and immediately grimaced, the stale stench of sweat was potent, even after the many years. Finally, he examined the trophies within the box. Their once shiny surfaces were now dull and tarnished. He thumbed through the multiple first place trophies they won during his first two years. He tried to ignore the empty space where the third year trophies would've gone.

He tried.

The sound of the front door opening shook him out of his trance. “Shuichi? You home?” His uncle’s voice echoed from below.

“I’m upstairs!” He shouted back. Shuichi hurriedly began to pack everything back into the box, as if he were playing a strange game of tetris. His gaze lingered upon the old photograph a moment too long, and his uncle knocked and popped his head through the doorframe before he could hide the evidence.

Caught in the act, Shuichi forced his gaze to meet his uncle’s. Shinji Saihara, the older brother of Shuichi’s father, was a lean man in his early fifties. His hair, once dark like his nephew’s, was now a dull gray, save for a few stripes where his natural color prevailed. His presence held something distinctly solid and grounding within, causing those around him to slow down and think with a more logical mind. “Hey, kid. Just got out of the firm and thought I’d check up on you.” He hovered in the doorway, keen eyes not failing to spot Shuichi’s poorly concealed mental instability. _Oh, joy_. Shuichi sighed, he knew it was pointless to try to hide anything from his uncle.

“Just looking through some old stuff,” he confessed.

“What old stuff?” his uncle prodded. He let himself into the room and sank into the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. Shuichi caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke as he approached.

“Um, some old pictures… volleyball stuff.” He pulled his cap lower in a lame attempt to block out his uncle’s prying eyes.

“Why now of all times? Cherishing those _fond_ memories?” He chuckled slightly at his own sarcasm.

Shuichi gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Oh, bullshit,” he remarked, his tone light.

Shuichi deflated. Having a detective as an uncle seemed glamorous: gruesome murders, unsolved cases, and heroic tales of catching the bad guy always turned heads when he brought it up. But the drawbacks really came to light when he was trying to avoid… difficult conversations. His uncle never spared him any mercy in digging up the truth, and while sometimes he was grateful for his persistence, he wasn’t really feeling it tonight.

Still, he relented, not wanting to make this interaction more uncomfortable than it already was. “Kaede asked me to join the volleyball team.”

“Again?”

“Yeah…except this time she _really_ wants me to join. They, uh, need a setter.”

His uncle lifted his brow, finger held to his chin as he thought. “I don’t see why not.”

Shuichi scoffed. “You know what happened back then, it was a nightmare—”

“Shuichi,” his uncle interrupted, “that was years ago. You can’t change the past, but you can choose your course of action in the present.” He held up his finger, sternly. “If someone knocked your brain around and you completely forgot about middle school, would you say yes to Kaede’s offer?”

“If that happened, I wouldn’t even be able to play volleyball,” Shuichi muttered.

“You know that’s not my point.”

He paused, hand hovering near the old photograph. What _would_ he do? Shuichi tried to mimic his uncle and rationalize his emotions, but it was far too difficult to figure out what his true feelings were towards the sport without his past memories’ taint. He was both scared of playing again and of disappointing Kaede—the gut wrenching anxiety that clamped around his chest told that much—yet if that were all he felt, this decision should’ve been a simple choice of which he feared less. He could sense some deep, unrealized emotion in the nooks and crevices of his mind that complicated the matter, but he was unable to fully grasp it.

“I…” he started, uncertainty thick in his voice. “I don’t know.” He was hit with a pang of raw guilt.

His uncle hummed as he stared Shuichi down. “Well I think it’d do you some good to get out of this house more often.” He frowned as he looked around his room. “Being cooped up in here ninety-nine percent of the time can’t be good for your health.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it.” He pulled his cap down as he shied further away from the truth.

His uncle narrowed his eyes, but didn’t push him further. _Thank God_.

The two moved onto a lighter subject: vehicular homicide. This latest case had been giving his uncle some trouble, but he seemed close to making a breakthrough. Shuichi allowed him to bounce some ideas off of him, and even offered up a few theories of his own. After an hour, his uncle ruffled Shuichi’s hair (much to his chagrin), packed his belongings, and set off into the night.

He was left alone with his thoughts.

The weekend passed in a blur of homework, mystery novels, and YouTube. Keeping himself distracted from his anxiety was a full time chore, and he often drowned himself in work to escape the creeping dread. Before he knew it, Monday was upon him. He drifted through the day in a haze, far too distracted by the stress brewing in the back of his mind. He sat in his statistics class, dead eyes locked on the board and a pencil tapping away on his pant leg. His teacher’s handwriting was a smeared scrawl on the chalkboard. He struggled to focus on the swirling numbers and equations before him. Shuichi gave up on paying attention and let his gaze wander. Around him, multiple students doodled on their papers or played on their phone. He didn’t blame them. At last the bell rang, and Shuichi grabbed his bag and made a beeline for the door.

“Hold up, Shuichi,” his teacher called before he could make it through the door.

Shuichi’s heart raced as he stalled, moving aside to let the rest of the class pass through. When only a few students lingered, he made his way over to his teacher’s desk. “Uh, you wanted me?”

“When do you plan on making last Tuesday’s test up?”

Oh God, he completely forgot about that. His mind raced. “Oh, right… Is today alright?” He was not at all prepared for it, but he didn’t want his teacher to have to wait longer than he already had.

His teacher nodded. “Works for me, see you after school.”

“Got it. See you then.” He left in a hurry, not wanting to be late for his next class. The surprise test was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he was a frantic mess, desperately spending every free moment reviewing his statistics notes and practicing the formulas. On the other, it was a great distraction from all his other problems. By day’s end, he had almost forgotten his current volleyball crisis. Shuichi sped across the worn carpet of Gopher High towards the second floor statistics room, and took the test.

Unfortunately, he definitely bombed it. He left the room in a daze, nerves fried and exhaustion palpable. He felt as though he’d sprinted ten laps at full speed only to crash head first into a brick wall. He dragged himself towards the front door, unwittingly passing by the gym as he trudged by. The hauntingly familiar sound of squeaking court shoes, slamming balls, and energetic shouts caught his attention. He peeked inside the open gym door. 

The gym was just large enough to hold one court: it stretched towards the right, horizontal in relation to the door. The painted brick walls were decorated in spirited purple and yellow banners and signs. Volleyball court lines were painted on the hardwood floor in shiny white. Despite the March chill, the gym was sweltering, the heat holding the distinct stench of sweat. Shuichi spotted an open door on the wall opposite to him that led outside. Planted in front of it was a large industrial fan; it pumped waves of cold air into the gym. Immediately inside the doors and to the right was a small set of metal bleachers with an assortment of bags thrown on and around them haphazardly. Stood proud in the middle of the court was the net, looking worn and old, yet sturdy.

About a dozen players filled the gym, split up into two approximately even groups on either side of the court. They stood behind the endline as they practiced their serves. Balls soared through the air like birds, some crashing into the floor with frightening power. Shuichi watched in awe as each person hit the ball, imbuing their own unique quirk and power into the serve. He was watching a tanned girl with silver hair prepare herself when a ball started hurtling crosscourt directly towards him. Shuichi pulled his arms up to protect his face, jumping when the ball slammed into the wall less than a foot away from his head. He breathed a sigh of relief, heart racing, and lowered his arms.

“Ah! Sorry!” a loud, yet friendly voice boomed from across the court. Shuichi followed the sound of the voice and spotted a man with an unruly mess of brown hair, tied back into a ponytail. He was tall, muscular, and built like an ox. Shuichi shuddered, had that serve connected, he surely would’ve undergone some damage. 

“It’s okay!” he called back, but he doubted his voice cut through the thundering noise in the gym.

“Wait, Shuichi?” The sound of Kaede’s voice froze his blood. Shuichi weighed his options. Should he run? No, that would be beyond embarrassing. Fake an illness? That was always possible, but not very convincing… Before he could make up his mind, Kaede was upon him. Her blonde hair was thrown up into a loose ponytail. She wore a baggy school t-shirt and a pair of dark joggers, her crutches fixed under her armpits. Upon closer inspection, it seemed she threw a couple stickers on them. “You here for practice? If so, you’re only about thirty minutes late,” she teased.

“Ah, no…sorry,” he stammered.

“Aw, come on!” she pouted. “Why not? I was just kidding about the late thing, you know.”

“I just have a lot of homework tonight,” he lied. In reality, he hadn’t gotten any for the first time in about a month. As Shuichi averted his gaze from Kaede, he caught the sight of purple eyes staring directly at him. A boy with an unruly mess of purple hair seemed to be listening in on their conversation from the end line closest to the door. Upon realizing he had been caught, the boy gave Shuichi a knowing smile and winked before returning to the serving drill. Shuichi furrowed his eyebrows. _What was that about?_ He returned his focus to Kaede. “I should probably get going.”

Kaede relented. “Alright, alright. But I’ll see you here tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Great!” she cheered, taking Shuichi’s noncommittal answer as an affirmative. He winced. They said their goodbyes and parted ways. He took one final look at the gym, and for once, an identifiable emotion welled up inside Shuichi’s heart: regret.

The night trudged on, and before he knew it, it was Tuesday. He drifted through his classes like a ghost. During statistics, his teacher returned his test, and he was surprised to find that he did rather well with a high B. At long last the final bell rang.

Shuichi found himself drawn to the gym. He rationalized that he was just going to take a quick look inside, not stop and stare like last time. It’s not like he _promised_ Kaede he’d come (the nagging guilt made him feel otherwise), that was her own misunderstanding. He padded through the tile halls and made his way to the gym doors. _Just a peek…_

The team members were scattered throughout the gym in small clumps. Some were still in their everyday school clothes, but the ones who were dressed and ready were pulling out some equipment from the storage closet. Shuichi spotted Kaede with a quick glance to his right. She was sitting on the metal bleachers, booted leg outstretched, talking to a girl with glasses and long, cerulean hair. Shuichi turned to leave, not wanting to test his luck.

“Hey Kaede!” someone yelled, stopping Shuichi dead in his tracks. He swivelled back around to see the same purple haired boy from yesterday pointing at him. “Your boyfriend’s here!”

“What?” Kaede puzzled before she turned to follow the boy’s pointed finger. “Oh! Shuichi!” She stood up unsteadily and started to make her way towards him.

“We’re, uh, not together,” Shuichi clarified to the rest of the team, all of whom now had their eyes on him. Shuichi felt his face heat in embarrassment. _Please just kill me now_. He glanced downwards to see that he had awkwardly raised his arms in a defensive position. Great.

“Ignore him.” Shuichi turned to his left to see a girl with dark twintails sitting on the floor, glaring daggers into the purple haired boy. “Nothing worthwhile ever comes out of his mouth.” Shuichi nodded, grateful for the backup.

“Woooooow, Maki, your harsh words wound me!” The boy pressed the back of his hand to his forehead like a faint Victorian woman. The dark haired girl—Maki—scoffed and continued tying her shoe, tugging on the laces as if she were using them to suffocate someone.

At last, Kaede reached him. She wore a bright smile on her face. “You came!”

“Y-yeah. Guess I did.” He couldn’t just leave again: Kaede would be beyond disappointed. But maybe he could still weasel out of it… “I didn’t bring my gear, so I can’t really play anything today. Maybe I could just watch a bit?”

“You can borrow my gear,” Kaede offered, lilac eyes brimming with joy. “We’re about the same height, so everything should fit okay.”

Everything was moving too fast. He looked down at his feet, almost swearing that the floor was spinning. As he examined his dark skinny jeans, a last ditch idea formed in his brain. “Even with the shoes and knee pads, I can’t really practice in my jeans…”

An unfamiliar voice chimed in. “I brought an extra pair of shorts, so feel free to use them.” Shit. There was no escape now. Shuichi looked at his executioner: a green haired boy with a slew of piercings. He forced a smile to his face. 

“Thanks, Rantaro!” Kaede beamed at him. The name clicked in Shuichi’s mind. Kaede had talked about Rantaro Amami a few times before.

Taking his borrowed equipment, Shuichi made his way into the bathroom and began to change. Only a few days ago, he would’ve considered this the worst case scenario, but now he could only describe his mental state as painfully resigned. Of course, a vicious fear still clawed at his throat: it had been a concerningly long time since he’d touched a volleyball, but he couldn’t deny the quiet anticipation that bubbled inside him. He tightened the waistband of the green haired boy’s shorts (a little too big), loosened the laces of Kaede’s court shoes (a little too small) and left the bathroom stall.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror, face still half hidden by his hat. He reached up to touch the brim. Shuichi knew he’d have to take it off during practice, but he still had time to rely on its comfort. He let his hand fall down to his side and went back to the gym.

Not much progress had been made on setting up the net since he’d left, most students were either changing or lazily hanging around the bleachers. Shuichi stalled, unsure of what to do. He scanned the gym, looking for Kaede. Instead, his gaze locked onto the same purple haired boy from before, struggling to move one of the net poles on his own. Shuichi hurried over, desperate to be of some use. 

“Ah, let me help,” he offered, grabbing one end of the pole. The boy stared at him blankly, then grinned mischievously. At once, he dropped the pole and tucked his hands behind his head, leaving Shuichi scrambling to keep his balance and avoid toppling over with the sudden weight change.

“Aw, thanks!” His wide grin displayed no animosity.

Shuichi gawked. “What was that for?”

“Eh?” The boy feigned innocence. “Sorry! I can’t hear you from under that hat.”

Irritation swelled within Shuichi, but he quickly remembered Maki’s words: _Ignore him._ “Just...forget it,” he relented. He took a deep breath and started to slowly make his way towards the middle of the gym, heavy pole in tow.

“I’m Kokichi Ouma, the captain of this team,” he offered while walking besides Shuichi, making no effort to help. “So you best get used to doing what I say.” He accentuated this point with a stern finger. Shuichi deflated. Not two minutes into his first practice and he was already being pushed around by none other than the team captain. If this was the way things ran around here—

“That was a lie,” Kokichi’s confession interrupted his train of thought. “I’m actually the team’s water boy.”

Confusion wracked Shuichi’s mind as he struggled to make sense of the boy’s contradiction. “Do volleyball teams even have water boys?” he asked at last.

He shrugged, apparently unbothered. “Beats me.”

“So… that was a lie, too?”

“Duh.” Kokichi rolled his eyes, as though that fact were the most obvious thing in the world. “Keep up, emo hat.” _Emo hat?_ Self conscious, Shuichi felt an urge to reach up and touch his hat, but his hands were too busy carrying the fifty pound pole. He settled to look straight at the floor. At last, they reached the middle of the gym. Kokichi at least had the decency to lift the cap off the pole slot. Shuichi carefully lowered the bottom end into the hole and pushed the pole into a vertical position, letting it slide into place with a solid _thunk_. He rubbed the soreness out of his arms and began to set the height to what he assumed was the standard for co-ed volleyball, but Kokichi interrupted him.

“You actually want to go two settings higher,” he instructed. Shuichi complied, but upon stepping back and comparing it with the other pole, he knew he’d been tricked again.

He sighed. “Really?”

Kokichi cackled, holding his stomach. “Ho boy, you’re really gullible aren’t you?” Shuichi flushed and pulled his cap down, not gracing the other boy with a response. He expected Kokichi to leave, his work (or lack thereof) complete. However, he lingered around Shuichi. “Sooo,” he began, poking him in the side. Shuichi flinched. “You’re our new setter, huh?”

“Um, yeah. I guess.”

He hummed, leaning down and looking up under the brim of Shuichi’s cap. Shuichi looked away. “You don’t sound so sure of yourself.” Neither said anything for a moment. “Anyways,” his tone lightened as he swung upwards and threw his hands behind his head. “You better give me some good sets.”

Shuichi scanned Kokichi up and down. He was barely over five feet tall, if at all. There was no way he could be a hitter. “You mean like... down balls?” he asked.

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p.” His cheshire cat grin had returned in full force. “I don’t hit from the back row. I’m a middle blocker, after all.”

He wasn’t going to be fooled by Kokichi again. “That’s got to be a lie,” he declared. The middle blocker position typically went to the tallest people on the team. With Kokichi’s height, it was unlikely he could even make it over the net to hit.

“He’s actually telling the truth.” Shuichi jumped a little as Rantaro approached from behind, net in hand. “Kokichi might be a short guy, but his jump more than makes up for it.”

“Yeah!” Tears welled in the shorter boy’s eyes. “Apologize for hurting my feelings!”

Shuichi paled, worry and guilt fluttering inside him. “Oh, um, I’m sor—”

“Just kidding!” In the blink of an eye, Kokichi was back to his usual self, a light smile upon his lips. “I don’t really care. In fact, seeing people’s reactions to my position is utterly hilarious.” He examined his nails. Shuichi sighed. Practice hadn’t even begun, and he was already exhausted from his constant contradictions. He helped Rantaro set up the net (again, with no help from alleged “water boy”), then stood around awkwardly as Kokichi prattled off about some story that was probably fake. Rantaro, merciful Rantaro, sent Shuichi to help some other students load up the ball carts.

Shuichi peaked his head back into the storage closet to see Maki loading ball carts alongside a tall boy with spiked hair. The two were deep in conversation. Shuichi didn’t want to interrupt, nor did he want to randomly jump in to help like last time. Instead, he hovered at the door until Maki took notice. “Need something?” she asked.

“Rantaro sent me over here to help.” Shuichi fidgeted under her cold stare. After a pause, she nodded and unfolded another cart for Shuichi to fill.

“Yo! You’re Kaede’s friend, right?” the other boy asked as they both filled their carts.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” he affirmed.

He grinned. “Glad you’re here! We’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” Shuichi’s stomach sank. He was far from prepared to meet whatever high expectations Kaede set up. Before he could protest her claims, the boy continued. “I’m Kaito Momota, the team captain!”

Shuichi’s instincts made him inclined to believe Kaito, but after today’s events… “Seriously?” he questioned.

Kaito’s face twisted into a puzzled expression. “Uh? Yeah, man. I’m serious.”

Shuichi’s face burned in embarrassment as he realized just how rude his accusation sounded. “Ah, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered. “I just haven’t had the best luck with people being honest today…”

Maki squinted her eyes. “It was Kokichi, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” Shuichi said with a sheepish smile.

Kaito clenched his fist and leaned out the door, eyes locking on the culprit. “HEY!! Shithead! Stop fucking with the new guy!” Shuichi’s eyes widened and he glanced out the door just in time to see the short boy stick his tongue out before ducking away. He felt uncomfortable for causing so much conflict on his first day at practice, but Maki and Kaito seemed completely unbothered. “Don’t worry about that guy, he’s constantly saying shit to get on other people’s nerves,” Kaito assured.

“Ah, got it.” The three finished filling up all the carts while making idle conversation. Shuichi learned that the other two were the team’s starting outside hitters. Shuichi paled, he really didn’t want to disappoint them with his subpar sets. They dragged the carts out to the court just as Kaede called the team into a huddle.

Shuichi was squished uncomfortably between Kaito and the goliath who nearly decapitated him yesterday, his body angled strangely towards the middle of the huddle. “Alright everyone,” Kaede began, “today we have a new team member! I’ve mentioned him here before, but I’m gonna let him introduce himself anyways.”

Shuichi silently cursed Kaede for putting him on the spot. “Oh, uh, my name’s Shuichi Saihara.” A chorus of greetings erupted from the team. He scanned the huddle, a pressing question burning in the back of his mind. He mustered his courage while he still had the floor. “If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your guys’ coach?”

A series of groans and scoffs emitted from the students in response to Shuichi’s question. “To put it kindly…” an elegant girl with silver hair started, “Coach Monokuma is best likened to an absentee father.”

Kaede crossed her arms. “That’s putting it _too_ kindly. I, for one, would be thankful if he never showed up again.” A shudder ran through her. “He’s worse than simply useless. He’s deadweight.” Shuichi gawked at her. He’d never heard Kaede speak an ill word about anyone before. The rest of the students nodded in agreement to her assertions. Shuichi made note to be wary of the mysterious coach. “Either way, he’s not here today, so he’s not our problem. Moving on, if everyone could introduce themselves to Shuichi…” Everyone spoke at a rapid fire pace, and Shuichi drowned in a whirlwind of names. While he was distracted trying to cement the names in his head, Kaede spoke again. “Alright, let’s get warmed up!” With that, the huddle dispersed, everyone breaking off into pairs. With a quick head count, Shuichi deduced that he was, in fact, the odd man out.

Fun.

Just as his breathing started to turn sharp and shallow, a loud, friendly voice cut through the clouds. “Hey, Shuichi! Over here!” Kaito waved for him to join him and Maki. Shuichi breathed a sigh of relief and placed a hand over his heart, willing it to slow its pace. He started to jog over to the pair, but quickly remembered his hat. Reluctantly, he shoved the garment in his book bag and went back to warm up. Kaito and Maki taught him how to pepper, a familiar drill from Shuichi’s middle school days. He could tell that they were going easy on him, but he was thankful. He was already making enough mistakes as is, any more and he probably would die of embarrassment. Kaito assured him that he understood that Shuichi was still getting back into the swing of things, but he still wrestled with the perfectionist within.

After a few minutes, Shuichi started to feel slightly better about his ball control, but his momentary comfort was cut short by the team starting a different drill. The group was split into two: half going to serve and half going to dig. As he waited in line for his turn to serve, he frantically ran over every piece of serving advice he’d ever gotten in his head. _Shoulders back, throw the ball high, but not too high, keep your wrist tight, follow through_ —

“You’re up, Shuichi,” an extremely short boy, now known as Ryoma, said as he clapped his back. Shuichi nodded and got into position. He aimed for Yonaga in the middle of the court, hoping that if his aim was off, he’d at least still make it in the court. Summoning whatever muscle memory he could, he tossed the ball in the air and hit it. His stomach filled with dread as he realized that he didn’t put enough force into his swing. He watched as the ball glided towards the net, only letting out his breath upon seeing that it just barely made it over. The three at the other end of the court dove towards the ball as it tipped over the net, but it was far too late for them to reach.

“Nice serve!” A few students congratulated him as he hurried towards the back of the line. It was just a fluke, he wanted to say, but his words were caught in his throat. After a few rounds, everyone switched sides. Shuichi got into a defensive position, praying that the ball wouldn’t come towards him. At the other end of the court, Kokichi was up to serve. His eyes quickly scanned over him, Ryoma, and Tenko, the three passers. He tossed up the ball and sent a floater towards Ryoma. Shuichi eased up just as the ball abruptly shifted its course and started propelling towards him. He desperately attempted to get into the proper position again, but he wasn’t quick enough. The ball made contact with the side of his forearm and went rocketing far to his right. Memories of disappointed, angry teammates flashed through his mind. Now more than ever, he craved his hat, wanting it to be his shield against the team’s stares. He started to stutter out an apology.

“No worries!”

“You’ll get the next one!”

“You got this!”

The other students’ voices of encouragement drowned out the voices in his head. Shuichi took a deep breath and chased after his stray ball, his mind slightly put to ease. He continued to dig the ball with varying degrees of success, but no matter the outcome, the others never ceased their invigorating positivity. As the team went from drill to drill, the atmosphere didn’t change. Shuichi wasn’t exactly feeling confident in his skillset, but he couldn’t deny that some of his previous anxieties had lessened.

At long last, it was time for a setting and hitting drill. Kaede spared him the misery of being the first setter up, instead bestowing that burden upon Kiibo. Shuichi watched the other setter in action. Kaede was right about him needing to work on his aim, amongst other things. The younger boy frequently fumbled the ball, incurring what the referees would consider a double touch. He was also far too easy to read, Shuichi accurately predicted where he would set before he even made contact with the ball. After a rare streak of decent sets, Kiibo was taken out of the drill. Shuichi spotted him beaming with some of the underclassmen, hands planted proudly on his hips.

“Alright Shuichi.” He turned to face Kaede, an encouraging smile lighting up her face, “Your turn!”

“R-right,” he said, swallowing his nerves. He stepped up towards the net and assumed a neutral setting position. Kirumi tossed a ball upwards, a perfect arch. Shuichi succumbed to instinct and let his fingers gently lift the ball in the air, sending a lofty set towards the outside. Maki approached the ball and spiked it down with ferocious power. Dazed, Shuichi looked down at his hands. The motion felt so natural, so euphoric. With each toss he grew more aware of just how much he had missed the sport. Finally starting to feel comfortable, he shifted his attention away from himself and more towards the other team members.

Out of the whole team, six hitters stood out to him. Maki and Kaito were powerhouses, delivering consistent, forceful hits from the outside. Rantaro was clever and methodical, placing the ball in hard to reach areas of the court. Despite her initial hesitancy in cooperating with a “filthy male,” Shuichi found Tenko to be a high energy prodigy. Her spirit could stand to be refined, he noted as she hit another ball out of bounds, but she displayed great potential. The goliath—Gonta—had an absolutely terrifying arm. Although he frequently made technical errors, his raw strength alone made him a force to be reckoned with. At last, Shuichi saw Kokichi’s speed and jumping prowess first hand. He had almost believed that his supposed position was another lie, but he was definitively proved otherwise. Kokichi soared upwards through the air, his jump easily compensating for his lack of height. Shuichi balked at his display, but the other boy simply flashed him a sly grin.

He lost track of time as he sent balls flying through the air. Before he knew it, practice was over. Kaede called the team into one last huddle. Shuichi scrunched his nose as everyone crowded together, they had managed to work up quite a pungent sweat. “Great job today, everyone!” Kaede said, unfazed by the smell. “I’m really proud of all the great work I saw today.” She proceeded to give a few tips out to different team members, encouraging Angie to lower her defensive position, suggesting Miu follow through on her swing, and offering that Gonta jump upwards instead of forwards while attacking. She had a gift of making her criticism feel gentle and inspiring. She didn’t focus on what they did wrong, but how they could be better. Shuichi felt himself smile. It was a stark contrast to his old coach who liked to rub salt into the wounds of everyones’ mistakes. “I’ll see you all here tomorrow at the same time, so make sure you get some rest.” Everyone nodded as she smiled. “Kaito?” Kaede prompted.

The team captain perked up. “Bears on three! One, two, three—”

“BEARS!!” the team erupted as one, their voices filling the gym with an unfettered energy. Shuichi’s heart soared as he was caught up in the team’s spirit. At once, the group dissipated and started to take down the net. He helped collect the stray balls with Rantaro, the two making quick work of it. Upon seeing the taller boy, he quickly remembered his clothing situation.

Shuichi winced. “About your shorts…”

Rantaro waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, just give them back at practice tomorrow.”

“Right.” Practice tomorrow… Barely three hours ago, Shuichi would’ve thought he was crazy. But now, as he watched his teammates filter out of the gym, that thought didn’t sound so bad. After saying goodbye to Kaede, Shuichi grabbed his bag and headed out, only stopping to put on his hat. He was thankful for the comfort it brought him. The sun was already sinking westward, deep golds and faded blues painting the sky in beautiful watercolors.The air outside was significantly colder than the gym, and he found his sweat cool quickly to the point where he was almost shivering. His jacket was stuffed too deep in his bag to be worth the effort of pulling it out, so he instead hurried towards his car.

Shuichi immediately blasted the heat upon starting the engine, leaning back in his seat to savor the warmth. He didn’t remember the last time he had a workout like that. His muscles ached, soreness already starting to set in. He almost wanted to curl up and sleep in his car, but the promise of a hot shower at home spurred him into action. Feelings swirled within him as he pulled out of Gofer High’s parking lot. Sure there was the crushing anxiety from the weight of everyone’s expectations, but something light and sweet had nestled its way into his heart: hope.

He found himself looking forward to tomorrow’s practice.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping it works this time! :')  
> Check out my Tumblr @rietala for more V3 content and fic updates.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
